Come Home With Me
by insanitys.cowgirl
Summary: So...basically America has fallen on hard times and England takes him in and cares for him. Crappy title...crappier summery...good story. :
1. Chapter 1

**So…first multichapter I have ever done…and I wrote it all at once. Wow. Anyway… please enjoy. Lemon in later chapters. Reviews are adored (flames are put up with). I do not (I have to say this a lot, don't I?) own Hetalia.**

It was four AM when America stumbled through the door of his apartment. His rather _ratty_ apartment. The sink was broken again, the oven only worked half the time, and sooner or later the bedroom light was going to fall right on top of Alfred while he was sleeping. But, there was a roof over his head and he wouldn't freeze to death, so he should be thankful. Stupid economy. Stupid government. Stupid everything. Despite his cheerful appearance and his "total hero attitude", America really was worn down. He'd lost weight, lost sleep, had been sick on and off for the past three months, and what's worse, nobody noticed or cared. Though his pride would never let the Super Power admit it, all Alfred really wanted was somebody to care for him. Like Arthur once had. It wasn't until this stuff had started that he realized just how much he had been missing the island nation. He'd kept busy, so thoughts of his childhood were pushed aside, along with all thoughts of England and their past relationship. Really...if he could trade the past two hundred some odd years of freedom for one more hug, one more gentle word, as of right now, he would. But that was impossible. So, the tired nation simply turned out the lights and collapsed on his bed, passing out before he could set his alarm.

_Is this really where Alfred lives? _The green-eyed brit wondered quietly to himself. It had taken him all morning to track this place down, but there was no way this could be right. Alfred F. Jones was a _nation_ for heaven's sake, there was no way he lived in a place like this. However, Arthur figured it was worth checking anyway. He'd come this far, after all. Wandering inside, he found the building was even worse than he'd thought. It smelled bad, the heat was primitive and obviously didn't work all that well, the paint was chipping everywhere, the floor was a major splinter hazard, and the ceiling looked ready to collapse in on itself. No way Alfred lived here.

"Excuse me...Miss?" Arthur said to the dirty, vicious looking woman seated in the office.

"No rooms." She growled.

"No no, ma'am. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Alfred F. Jones."

"Oh. Him." The woman snatched a key from the wall behind her, tossing it at Arthur. "Room two-sixteen."

"Thank you." Arthur said, turning to go find America. Lord. He did live here. Noting the condition of the elevator, Arthur opted to take the stairs instead, not that they were in any better condition. Making it to the second floor safely, the small man made his way down the hall dodging holes in the floor and drips from the ceiling. Reaching two-sixteen, Arthur pounded gently on the door.

"Alfred! Open the door, Alfred!" England yelled when his ex-colony failed to answer to his knocking. When the silence continued, Arthur used the key he had been given.

"Alfred. I'm letting myself in. For the love of God you'd better be decent!" Arthur yelled as he made his way through the door. He would have removed his shoes, but really didn't want to risk the splinters...or the rusty nails...or...God only knew what else. The floor boards creaked obscenely under his weight. Arthur spied America's bomber jacked slung over a chair in the kitchen/dining room area, so at least he knew for sure that Alfred lived here. How embarrassing it would have been to barge in on someone else's home and have to explain himself.

"Alfred! Where are you?" Arthur padded down the hall, past the bathroom and towards the bedroom. He let out a sigh. Poor America. The apartment was not only in bad condition, but it was tiny. The entire thing would fit into Arthur's living room...three times over! He couldn't help but wonder why on earth Alfred lived here.

Reaching the bedroom Arthur finally found the man he'd been looking for. He froze in his tracks. There, shirtless and flopped across a bed that was way smaller than he was, was Alfred. Without his shirt, Arthur finally noticed the weight America had lost. He could see the man's ribs. On silent feet...or, as silent as the bloody floorboards would allow, Arthur made his way to Alfred's bedside. The nation's eyes were screwed tightly shut in his sleep, cheeks slightly flushed, his breathing irregular. He looked anything but comfortable.

"Oh, Alfred..." Arthur murmured, stroking the larger man's cheek. Alfred stirred at the touch, his eyes slowly blinking open.

"Ar...thur?" The boy's words were slurred from sleep, and his eyes were a bit clouded as well.

"Yeah. Uh, sorry for barging in, but, you were, uh, late for the meeting and I came to look for you...and uh, well, here I am. Found you." Arthur stuttered, really unsure of what to say.

"Good morning. Shit! What time is it! Oh, lord, I'm sorry, I forgot to set my alarm! Give me ten minutes to shower and I'll be ready to go, promise!" Alfred bolted out of bed, swayed unsteadily on his feet, righted himself and ducked into the bathroom, grabbing some clothes on the way.

"Alfred...?" Arthur called after him. They really needed to talk.

"Sorry. Make yourself at home. I'll be out soon." Alfred disappeared. They'd have to talk later. Arthur reluctantly settled down in the living room, losing himself immediately in his thoughts. _I can't let him stay here. This place is terrible. But there has to be a reason he's living here. Could it be he has no where else to go? God. That must be it. I knew things were bad...but this is awful. Well, that settles it. I'll just have to take him home with me. _Arthur sighed. The American would never agree to that though. Besides, the boy was a nation, not a stray cat. But there really was no other option. Noting the moving boxes in one corner of the living room, Arthur silently packed Alfred's clothes and lugged them down to his car. He'd give the boy no choice but to come home with him, even if he had to go all pirate and kidnap him. Arthur made his way back into the room, settling back down just as Alfred burst out of his bathroom, not even noticing the lack of clothes and personal effects in his apartment. He slung his bomber jacket over his shoulders and headed for the door.

"Well Iggy. We'd better go." The lad didn't even stop to eat, just took off out the door. Arthur scrambled up and hurried after him, opening the car door like a gentleman should. As they drove to the convention center, Arthur kept tearing his eyes off the road to look the larger nation over. With clothes on you couldn't even tell how thin he was, but there was still a weariness in his eyes, though the boy tried to hide it, and a tiredness that seemed to engulf all of him. But, the closer to the convention center they got, the more seamless the boy's facade became. Soon he almost looked like his usual self.

"Alright! We're here! Let's get on with the meeting! I'm the hero!" America shrieked, flying out of the car and up the steps. Arthur couldn't help but marvel at how well the boy faked normality.

"Dudes. Sorry I'm late, forgot to set my alarm!" America burst into the meeting hall, laughing obnoxiously. "But you can stop worrying, the hero has arrived!" Alfred was greeted by several countries *cough*Germanyinparticular*coughcough* lecturing him about being almost five hours late. Arthur wanted to punch them all in the face. Couldn't they see the state the poor lad was in? No. Alfred was too good at acting. Seeing as punching them all in the face would be rude, Arthur settled for sending them all death glares. Eventually everything was smoothed over and the meeting went on as usual. Alfred ranted about all the usual subjects, but never once brought up how bad conditions were for him. His mask never slipped once and the meeting went smoothly from that point on.

It was dark out before the meeting adjourned. It had run on really late. As the nations tiredly piled out the door, Arthur managed to pin Alfred down. It was time for them to talk.

"Dude, England...what's up man?"

"I saw that apartment, Alfred. You know I did. Why are you living in a place like that? Didn't you used to live in the White House?"

"W-w-well yeah, I did..." Alfred began. "B-but the new family...they don't like me. At all. So I had to find somewhere else to live."

"But..why a place like that?"

"Bad economy...I guess...I'm just happy to have a place to live. I'll be alright though, so if you could just do me a favor and drive me home..." Alfred said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"No!" Arthur snapped at him.

"Wha..."

"There's no way I'm letting you go back to that shithole! EVER!"

"Arthur..." America said, obviously confused.

"Come home with me, Alfred. Let me take care of you for a while." Arthur said more gently. "I have plenty of room."

"I-I can't..."

"Nonsense. Of course you can. Your government only ignores you right. They make you do intern level work, don't they." America reluctantly nodded. "Well then, you can take some time to rest Alfred. Heaven knows you need it. You won't be missed. It wouldn't be abandoning them, Alfred. They abandoned you. Not the other way around." Tears threatened to spill over Alfred's cheeks as Arthur said that.

"Ar-arthur! Don't say that!" He wiped the tears away furiously, rubbing his cheeks red.

"Sorry, Alfred. But you know it's true. And _I _know how much it hurts you." Arthur's hands replaced Alfred's, wiping at the tears much more gently. "I know you just want to be cared for. You just want to be loved. Am I right?" No response. "Am. I. Right?" Alfred gave an almost unnoticeable nod.

"Well, all right then. Come home with me, Alfred Jones. Let _me _love you." Alfred's eyes widened in shock at the words. He'd thought for sure England hated him. But the soft press of lips against his begged to differ.

"Come home with me." Arthur repeated as he pulled away. Stunned, Alfred could no longer find any reason to argue.

"M-my stuff..." He muttered, blushing.

"In the car, love. I packed it this morning." England reached out a gentle hand to straighten America's hair a bit. "Let's go home, yes? You could use a good meal and a decent night's sleep. I'll even cook you one of those burgers you're so fond of."

"Ok, Iggy." America nodded meekly, too tired to argue, and climbed into his side of the car. England smiled. That had been easier than he'd thought. The drive to the airport was short and silent. There were several seats available on the next red-eye to London, and the flight was uneventful. Not even an hour in, England felt a heavy weight on his left shoulder. Looking over, all he could see was dirty blonde hair and the rough fabric of a bomber jacket. Arthur smiled. America had fallen asleep, his breathing even, expression peaceful, and was using England as a pillow. The island nation couldn't help but reminisce about the days when Alfred was a colony, sleeping in England's lap or on his shoulder, just as he was now. Golden days. Perhaps the days ahead would be just as golden.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred was sleeping so peacefully, it bothered Arthur to wake him. As the plane readied for landing, he briefly wondered if he was strong enough to carry the American. However the sensation of the plane descending nudged Alfred into awakeness. Cloudy blue eyes blinked tiredly at Arthur, before America smiled warmly.

"Hey." He murmured.

"Hello, love." England smiled as America's head was lifted off his shoulder. "Looks like we're here." Alfred nodded and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Arthur's heart skipped a beat at the sight. The lad really was adorable...except when he was being obnoxious. The pair disembarked, fetched Alfred's things, and made their way to the overnight parking area, where Arthur's car was waiting.

"It'll be a couple hours." England warned, handing Alfred a steaming cup of coffee.

"Wait, you don't live in London?" Alfred took the cup gratefully.

"What is it with you Americans thinking all us Brits are from London? I live a couple hours out, on the edge of a small town. I have thirty acres all to myself." Arthur climbed into the driver's seat and Alfred piled in beside him.

"Awww...Iggy...can't I drive now?" America asked.

"Heavens no, Alfred. You'd drive on the wrong side of the road. I just know you would." England chastised playfully. America just huffed and settled in, flicking on the radio and finding a decent soft rock station they would both be able to put up with. Leaning against the car window, Alfred nearly fell asleep again.

"We're here, Alfred." England's soft voice saved America from the clutches of sleep. The car passed through a massive gate, which England insisted was only for show and that he never closed it. The driveway was long and surrounded by trees on both sides, and it let out into a small roundabout with a stunning fountain in the middle. Rosebushes were in full bloom around the gushing fountain and a marble staircase led the way to the massive red oak double doors. Alfred stared.

"This is where you live?"

"The spoils of being a pirate, Alfred. I've had this place forever." The older nation said, leading the way into the house. "I'm going to give you this room here, it's right across from mine. I'll show you around tomorrow, but as of right now I think it would be wise for you to shower and get some sleep." Alfred nodded in agreement. "Here's the bathroom, I'll bring your clothes in so you can just hop in the shower. By the time you're done I'll have some dinner ready too. Sound good?" Alfred nodded again. England smiled and left him to it. When he brought the larger nation's clothes in, the shower was running and he swore to God he could hear quiet singing coming from the bathroom. Barely suppressing a laughing fit, England made his way downstairs to make good on his promise of dinner.

As Alfred emerged from the bathroom he was greeted by the delicious aroma of food. His wandering eyes found England settled in at the small table in front of his heavily draped windows, two steaming plates of food set out. Opposite of him was a plate with a hamburger, fixed just how Alfred liked it, and steak fries. Arthur was having beef stew with steak fries, and had poured them both a nice cup of hot chocolate.

"Feel better?" England asked with a smile.

"You have no idea." America sighed. "And the food smells awesome. Thanks for the meal." America set himself down in his chair.

"Don't mention it. Now go ahead and dig in, you must be starved." They ate in relative silence, surprising considering Alfred was there, but not really all that awkward. Alfred did his best to eat politely, working his brain to try and remember the manners England had once taught him. When he finished, the lad leaned back in his chair watching the snowflakes that had just begun to fall outside the window. Once Arthur finished and reclined in his chair as well, the silence that stretched between them became less companionable and more awkward. Both had things they wanted to say, but neither knew how to say it. America stood first, crossing the room to flop onto the edge of his massive bed.

"Alfred...?" England questioned.

"Iggy..." America looked down as he spoke, fiddling with his hands. "why'd you even bother to take me in? It's not like you really like me at all. Not since the revolution, anyway. You hate me. You've made that plenty clear. And now you show up, drag me home with you and promise to love me. What's up with that dude? You hate me just like everyone else, so why bother pretending otherwise."

"Alfred F. Jones!" England snapped, standing up rather suddenly. "Don't you say that! I don't hate you. I...thought you hated me to be perfectly honest. I mean after the revolution...well that doesn't matter. The past is the past. Now what do you mean everybody hates you?" England settled down on the bed beside Alfred, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They all do...all the other countries...the first family...the president...even most of my people. No one cares for me anymore, England. No one." America let out a shuddering breath, trying to keep control of the tears threatening to burst from his eyes.

"Oh, Alfred. I care." Arthur said gently, the hand he'd placed on Alfred's shoulder moving to rub small circles on the larger man's back. "I really do, you know. And just because your world image isn't the best right now doesn't mean that everybody hates you."

"Yes they do. Even _I_ hate me sometimes."

"Come on now, pet." England was terribly upset that the American had bottled this up for so long that things had gotten this bad. "You don't mean that. You're just upset and lonely. You'll feel better after some rest. Promise."

"Did you really mean it? When you said you didn't hate me...that you care?" The hope in Alfred's eyes nearly broke Arthur's heart. The lad truly did believe he was all alone.

"I don't hate you, Alfred. Never have. Never will." England's arm wrapped around Alfred's broad shoulders. Even when he was thin the boy was massive, Arthur noticed. "And I do care. A lot."

"I wish I could believe it..." America muttered. England sighed. Of course convincing him would take more than a few soft words. Gathering all his courage, Arthur shifted from his position at Alfred's side until he was seated across the boy's lap, both blushing furiously as their lower regions brushed against each other. Leaning forward, England tangled his hands up in America's shirt, pulling the boy's head down and pressing another kiss to his lips.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was no mere peck on the lips. Arthur poured his every hidden feeling for Alfred into the kiss. Alfred's eyes widened at first, then, with a sigh he let them drift closed, kissing back with as much love and emotion and more. Mouths parted and tongues tangled together. A soft moan was heard and swallowed, but neither knew who the sound had come from. They were lost in a tipsy, dizzy world where only the two of them existed. As Arthur pulled back they were both panting for air.

"Believe me yet, poppet?" England gasped.

"Hehe…poppet….sounds funny." The American giggled, making Arthur scowl a bit.

"Oh, belt up!" The older man grouched. America simply smiled, wrapped his arms around the Brit, splaying his hands across the small of his back, and pulled Arthur closer.

"I believe you Iggy." Alfred assured him. He brought their lips together again and the Englishman sighed and leaned into the larger man, melting into the kiss.

"Alright then. Time for bed, Alfred. God knows you need the rest." England instructed as the parted for air. He climbed off the boy's lap earning himself a disappointed whine. Arthur leaned forward once more, brushing a kiss across Alfred's brow before moving to turn off the light and go to his own room. A large hand enveloped his wrist as he turned to leave.

"Don't go." Blue eyes looked up at Arthur, pleading. England gave in easily.

"All right Alfred." Arthur settled back down on the side of the bed, gently laying Alfred down, tucking him underneath the covers. The hand on his wrist never relented.

"Tell me a story?" Alfred asked. This was something they hadn't done since America had been little, and England was more than happy to comply. With his free hand, England removed Alfred's glasses and placed them on the bedside table. Smiling, Arthur began to tell the larger nation some of his favorite fairy tales. Eventually, the blue eyes that had been watching England intently drifted closed. The hand that hand ensnared England's wrist loosened, and the boy's breathing evened out. Arthur couldn't resist stroking the younger one's hair as he watched him sleep. America sighed, leaning gently into the touch, and England's heart fluttered with affection.

Getting up on silent feet, Arthur crossed the room to switch off the light.

"Iggy?" America whined from the bed, the Brit's absence having woken him from his light sleep. "Where ya going? I thought you said you were going to stay."

"I'm just getting ready for bed, Alfred. Calm down." So saying, England padded into his own room, switched to an overly large union jack tee and sweat pants, and then crawled into bed next to the American.

"Iggy." America sighed sleepily, rolling over to face the island nation.

"Go to sleep, Alfred." Arthur urged. And, tucking his head under a very flushed England's chin, Alfred complied, drifting off to a deep and peaceful sleep, England not far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred awoke, as he had every day for the past three weeks, with the smell and feel of England all around him. He could feel the smaller nation's heart beating against his chest as Arthur lay atop him. They'd fallen asleep watching TV a couple hours ago.

"Waah~" The Brit yelped as America scooped him up off the couch.

"Oh, go on back to sleep." America chastised gently.

"'merica?" England slurred tiredly.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Bloody git…" Arthur went back to sleep, his head snuggling into the crook of America's neck. Alfred smiled and shook his head. He carried the small man up the stairs to the bedroom they now shared. Eventually, when Arthur realized how clingy America was going to be, he simply moved the boy's stuff into the master bedroom. Alfred liked that, having his England to cuddle while he slept. And he really liked all the attention he was getting. The gentle kisses (when he could coax the Englishman out of his embarrassment), the soft touches, the ruffling of his hair, and oh, the smiles. Arthur rarely smiled. He was too busy being a grump to smile too often. But safe in the privacy of his own home, Arthur smiled plenty. And his smiles were like rays of sunshine, gentle and warm. But mostly, Alfred just liked being close to Arthur. Whether he was being coddled or cursed by the Brit, he was happy.

Arthur stirred a bit as Alfred set him down gently on the bed, reaching out in his sleep for the retreating form of the American. Alfred chuckled, climbing in to the other side of the bed, and reached out to pull England to his chest. The smaller nation wriggled close to him, his arms wrapping around America's waist, head nestled against his chest, and Arthur sighed happily. America smiled tenderly at the Briton. Despite his rough exterior, Arthur really was cuddly. At least, when he was sleeping, that is. Because then his embarrassment couldn't get the better of him.

Arthur woke up slowly, feeling safe and warm and not wanting to ever move again. The sensation of two strong arms around him both irritated and pleased him. On the one hand, Alfred had gone and coddled him as he slept again. On the other hand…Alfred had gone and coddled him as he slept again and he couldn't be happier. England sighed, he supposed he was still adjusting to the changes in their relationship. And boy had there been a lot of those. They'd gone from hating each other, and being unable to be in the same room with each other without arguing, to kissing and cuddling and loving. Sure, Arthur had been lusting after (not that he'd admit it) Alfred for years, but he'd never dreamed the American would return his feelings. He wondered briefly if the other nations at the meeting would notice the change. The meeting. Shit. What time was it? Arthur stole a glance at the clock and sighed with relief. They were still on time.

He slipped off the bed slowly and silently, tickled pink when he managed to leave the American sleeping. Before he disappeared into the bathroom, Arthur took his time to study the American. The only time he really looked peaceful was when he was sleeping like this. His face was lax and at ease, his breathing was rhythmic and peaceful, and his dusty blond hair was scattered wildly across the pillow, some of it falling over his face. England's eyes softened as he watched the American sleep, one of those rare smiles gracing his face. Before he caught himself, that is, and scrambled into the bathroom grumbling to himself about going soft.

"America." Arthur called from the side of the bed, a towel still working at his damp hair. "America! You need to get up you prat!" Arthur nudged Alfred, who barely stirred. "ALFRED F. JONES GET YOUR LAZY AMERICAN BUTT OUT OF BED RIGHT THIS INSTANT!" Alfred blinked up at England.

"G'morning Iggy!" He chirped. "What time is it?"

"Time to take a shower and head to the meeting, Alfred." The American sighed and did was he was told. The meeting was in London this time, and the two had to leave at five AM to get there on time. America whined about it still being dark out, but England chose to ignore him. Luckily there was coffee and breakfast at the meeting and Alfred perked up once he got some food and caffeine in his system. None of the other nations questions their arrival together, deciding that they didn't want the English nation to kill them in their sleep. Of course Italy had his theories, and France made a few lewd comments to the rest of the trio, but no one dared say a thing to the two nation's faces. Canada, despite being unnoticed, knew what was going on.

"England…." A quiet voice whispered from behind Arthur.

"Yes?" Arthur turned to face whoever was addressing him. "Oh, Canada, it's you. When did you get here?"

"I've been here the whole time!" The man said, almost speaking at a normal level. England, ever the gentleman, felt bad.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"It's ok. I'm used to it." The boy smiled, clutching his Polar bear a little tighter. "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of my brother. He really needs the help, even if he won't admit it. I tried to help, but he just ignored me…"

"Oh, that wanker! Ignoring his own brother! Sorry for that, Matthew." Canada just shrugged it off.

"Thank you again, Mr. England. I really appreciate someone taking the time to care about America." With that, Canada shuffled away, whilst the bear in his arms demanded to know who he was and where he was taking him. Poor Canada.

The drive home was mostly uneventful. It involved America, who had finally been allowed to drive, driving on the wrong side of the road for three miles just to annoy England, who called him many names, including but not limited to "wanker", "prat", "bloody American", "moron", and "git". Eventually, when England trusted the American enough to drive correctly the rest of the way home, he fell asleep. Which Alfred found adorable. America opted to, instead of waking the Island nation up, carry him inside. The man had, after all, had a long day of arguing with France. An activity sure to wear anyone down.

He settled the Brit down on their bed and went downstairs to fetch him some tea, having, unfortunately, learned how to make the disgusting drink in the time he had been living here. England was awake when he returned, and staring shocked at the tea cup in Alfred's left hand. America handed him the steaming cup, and Arthur took a weary sip. He was surprised to find it was his favorite kind of tea, served just as he liked it. He murmured a startled thank you and leaned back against the headboard to enjoy his tea.

Alfred settled down beside him, working on a cup of coffee himself. The two just sat there in companionable silence. Arthur let out a contented sigh and stared out the window. The snow had continued falling softly ever since Alfred's arrival. It gave the land a peaceful air to it, and he loved how, even though the sun had long ago set, the snow reflected the moonlight, and it was nice and bright outside.

"Would you go for a walk with me, Alfred?" England asked, as he sat down his tea cup with a gentle clatter. America smiled at him.

"Sure." He agreed. The two bundled up in warm winter clothes before heading out into the winter wonderland. England smiled, sending Alfred's heart pounding in his chest, and tilted his head back to watch the snowflakes as they fluttered down from the heavens. America about melted at the sight. With the gentle smile gracing his face, his pale blond hair falling backwards and his green eyes aglow with happiness, England was too cute for his own good.

_Whump! _To avoid doing anything he would regret later, America nailed England with a snowball. England looked at him in shock.

"You bloody prat! What was that for?" Arthur demanded, his face flushed against the cold. America simply smirked at the older man and threw another. England growled.

"Fine. Be that way, wanker." Arthur reached down a gloved hand and scooped up a fistful of snow. America stared. Oh shit. He hadn't expected Arthur to fight back.

"Um…Iggy…I….uh" America's apology was cut short by a lump of cold snow hitting him square in the face. The apology died unborn. It was on. Laughing and shivering, Alfred grabbed more snow and flung it in Arthur's direction. Somehow he coaxed the Englishman into a snowball fight that continued until both parties were shivering and drenched.


	4. Chapter 4

**And here is the promised lemon! I feel like this isn't finished…what do you guys think? Any ideas/suggestions or requests? I feel like writing but I can't think of anything… **

England had begun to shiver even more violently as the walked back up to the house, and America noticed. He removed his thick bomber jacket and placed it, as well as an arm, around England's shoulder. England grumbled a bit, a blush making his cheeks flush even brighter red, if that were possible. However he allowed the American to walk closer to him, appreciating the warmth he was being allowed to share in. As they neared the house, America stopped suddenly, his hands migrating to England's waist, pulling the Brit close.

"Iggy…" America groaned, no longer able to hold back the urge to ravish the other man's mouth. England was just too cute. America's lips descended on England's. England protested at first, trying his hardest to pull back. But, as even more warmth flowed into his body, England relaxed, fitting his body to America's and opening his mouth to America's invasion. Alfred's tongue claimed every inch of England's mouth ruthlessly, and England went weak at the knees. Scooping England up America carried him inside, slamming the door and trapping Arthur against it. Instead of protesting, Arthur groaned and tangled his hands in America's hair. Centuries of sexual tension seemed to have finally caught up to the pair.

As their lips broke apart, already gasping for breath, America latched onto England's throat, biting, sucking and licking ever inch of space. Arthur closed his eyes and just clung to America, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud.

"Alfred…" England groaned as those lips moved to his collar bone, nimble fingers working at the top buttons of his shirt.

"Hmmm?" America looked up at him with lusty blue eyes.

"The entry way is no place for sex." The Briton said, leaning forward to lick the shell of Alfred's ear. "Let's go up to bed." America nodded eagerly. He slipped his arms around England's waist, lifting him up with ease. England wound his arms and legs around Alfred, burying his face in the lad's shoulder, sucking and biting at the flesh there as he was carried up to bed.

England couldn't find it in himself to complain as he was dropped onto the bed and Alfred leaned over him, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way. However, as the lad kissed down his chest he growled in impatience. The American was moving painfully slowly, kissing every inch of skin. As Alfred sucked gently at one of his nipples, Arthur finally lost it.

"Stop. Bloody. Teasing." Arthur panted, tugging harshly at the wheat colored locks of hair. Alfred smirked up at him.

"Or what?" The impertinent lad teased, nuzzling England's side.

"Or this." Arthur responded, flipping them over, and sitting America up against the head board of the bed. Arthur moved to straddle the larger man's hips, grinding needily against him. England flung both of their shirts aside hastily, pressing a hot and needy kiss against the other's lips as America bucked against him. God, he'd waited so long for this. How dare America expect him to take things slowly?

England found himself irritated with his pants soon enough, and disposed of them quickly, along with America's. Their boxers followed almost immediately, and then the pair was completely nude. Arthur leaned in to kiss Alfred once more, and couldn't contain his moan as the man's first finger found it's way inside of him. It felt so good. How had they made it the past three weeks without doing anything beyond kissing? Why had the Englishman insisted on being such a prude when all he'd wanted for the last few weeks- hell, he'd wanted this ever since he'd first seen America all grown up and so Goddamn sexy- was to be fucked senseless by the American he'd taken into his home, and into his heart. America himself had wanted England ever sense he'd been a teen, his raging hormones sending him rather steamy dreams about his ex-caretaker. How the two had managed to hold out this long was quite a mystery.

"Quit mucking about and _fuck _me." England demanded as he grew weary of the American's teasing fingers stretching him. Alfred removed his fingers and gripped at Arthur's hips as the older man positioned himself above Alfred and lowered himself onto the other man's cock. As Alfred was fully sheathed inside of Arthur, the island nation threw his head back, mouth agape, and let out the sexiest moan America had _ever_ heard. America gripped at England more tightly as they set a demanding pace. Arthur rode wildly, moaning and gasping desperately, and Alfred thrust upwards as best as he could, trying hard to keep up. Their movements were frantic against each other as release drew near. Arthur came first, throwing his head back again, this time much more violently, and arching his bad drastically as he _screamed_ Alfred's name. The sound of England screaming sent America over the edge as well, the pair rolling their hips a few more times, riding out their powerful climaxes.

As the panting subsided, Alfred smirked up at England before flipping the two over again and pounding into him. Arthur rolled his eyes back, gripping tightly at the American's shoulders and wrapping his legs around the other's waist, rolling his hips to met Alfred's. The pace continued throughout most of the night, as years of longing and desire were poured out into one endless night of pleasure. By the time they were through both were completely worn out, and Arthur collapsed against Alfred's chest, barely managing to mumble an "I love you." before passing out in his lover's arms.

"Love you too, Iggy." America buried his face in England's hair and fell into slumber as well, his arms wrapped securely around the Englishman.


	5. Chapter 5

**I have finally slaughtered my writers block! I hate writers block…writers block makes me a sad panda….anyway, here is the next chapter!**

England woke up slowly, feeling warm and safe and pleasantly achy. He let his brain reboot slowly, remembering what happened in excruciating detail. Every kiss, every touch. He blushed scarlet. He'd been really wanton and demanding last night. Damn. That was embarrassing. But at the same time, he was tucked snug against his lover's arms, warm and sated and content. He shifted around in Alfred's embrace, wiggling to look into the larger man's face. He was shocked to meet loving eyes and a sleepy smile. His heart beat madly in his chest, making England think of a caged bird.

"Good morning, Iggy." Alfred said happily, a lazy smile on his face. Arthur smiled back, his embarrassment washing away at the sight of that innocent smile.

"Morning, love." He answered. One of America's hands moved to brush sandy locks out of England's face, and the brit leaned happily into the touch. Alfred leaned in and captured England's lips in a lazy good-morning kiss, and Arthur hummed into it, kissing back and tangling his hands in Alfred's hair. The kiss grew passionate quickly, as Alfred's tongue delved into England's mouth. England moaned a little, and before he knew it, America had him pinned to the bed.

Kisses were trailed slowly over the brit's neck, and a few bite marks were placed over the most sensitive areas there. America was taking it slow again, but this time England didn't mind. Being slowly loved and worshiped sounded heavenly right now. Reverent licks and kisses were pressed against his collar bone, and a few of last nights bruises and love marks were gently nuzzled. England sighed and leaned deeper into the pillows, letting Alfred love him.

Lazy hands trailed up his sides, and Arthur purred as one of them reached around to stroke the small of his back, arching up to make it easier. Alfred sucked a pert nipple into his mouth and nipped at it, then soothing it with a soft lick. England moaned, and Alfred teased the other nipple between his fingers before switching sides. Arthur was already panting and half-hard, but he refused to give in to his impatience. He allowed Alfred to continue exploring, searching his chest and abdomen for areas that would make the brit gasp and moan. He found that Arthur's tummy was rather sensitive, and spent long minutes licking and biting it. The crook of England's hip also proved to be touchy, and as he licked along the length of it, he drew a loud moan from his lover's mouth. He trailed his finger tips lightly over the smaller man's thighs before sucking and biting them as well, running one finger over the bottom of England's dick at the same time.

"Ngh! Alfred!" England moaned loudly. America smirked at him from between his legs, a devious look in his eyes. England was stuttering nervously when, all of a sudden, his cock was encased in a wet, warm and absolutely _heavenly_ heat. He jumped in surprise, but as Alfred began to bob his head and suck, tongue swirling around his erection and pressing against his tip, Arthur relaxed, twining Alfred's hair between his hands and moaning needily. Alfred's hand came up to stroke and toy with what he couldn't fit in his mouth. He took as much of the older man as he could into his mouth and sucked hard, running his tongue over the bottom of it and applying gentle, even pressure with his hand. Suddenly Arthur couldn't take it anymore, and he barely managed to choke out a warning before he came into Alfred's mouth, the younger man swallowing around his length, and licking the entire length before leaning up to kiss Arthur once more.

Arthur grimaced a bit as he tasted himself on the kiss, but ignored it. Alfred's gentle hands already had him half-aroused again, and he moaned softly into his lover's mouth as Alfred began to prepare him. Alfred fingered him for a while, swiping at the other man's prostate here and there, before they both finally ran out of patience. Alfred removed his fingers and eased himself into his lover, swinging the island nation's legs over his shoulders. Alfred went still as he waited for the brit to relax, but England was really beginning to grow impatient.

"Bloody hell..ah, Alfred, just move..haah…already…" England moaned. Alfred was more than happy to comply. He began to thrust carefully, striking England's prostate on the first try.

"Ahhnn! Alf…Al…Alfred!" England cried out, throwing an arm over his face to cover his blush. Mewls and moans and occasionally screams left Arthur's mouth as Alfred's slow, deep thrusts hit his prostate directly each time. The pace picked up slowly, and eventually Arthur couldn't take it anymore. Crying out his lover's name, he climaxed, back arching off the bed as he tightened around America. The sudden added tightness around his cock sent America over the edge, and with one final, deep thrust, he came too, filling England with his spend.

They lay there panting for a few moments before Alfred untangled himself from Arthur and padded into the bathroom. Arthur stared after him, confused. He heard the boy moving around in the bathroom, and couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. Finally the boy returned, leaning over the bed to scoop his lover up in a bridal carry.

"Bath time!" America announced happily. And as steamy water curled around his tired body, Arthur sighed in approval, leaning back against Alfred's firm chest and using his shoulder for a pillow. America smiled and kissed England's cheek sweetly.

"So, wadda ya want for breakfast, Iggy?" Alfred asked, one arm wrapped tightly around his lovers slight frame, the other rubbing circles on England's abdomen.

"Mmmmm.." Was all England said in response. Breakfast could wait. For now, he was happy right where he sat.


	6. Chapter 6

**By the way, I still don't own Hetalia. Just so you know. And to all my readers, and reviewers, I may not have time to thank each and every one of you personally, but your comments really make my day, so THANK YOU!**

"You'll have to meet the man eventually, Alfred!" England declared, frustrated. Alfred had been living with him for several months now, and despite the fact that the brit loved having him around all the time, a new president was in office and Alfred rudely refused to meet the man.

"I don't want to! What if he hates me too!" America protested, his childlike nature arising once more.

"Oh, now really, he won't hate you." England soothed, snaking his arms around the lad, one hand stroking his hair. "And if he does, you'll still have me. But you can't go on ignoring him, I'm sure he wants to meet you, Alfred. What world leader doesn't want to meet their new country, hmm? Come now, I'll even go with you, poppet." America sighed, there really was no winning this battle, was there?

"Oh, alright." He finally agreed.

The couple caught a flight to D.C the very next week, and Alfred fidgeted the entire way there. His toes tapping, fingers twiddling, eyes shifting about nervously. Lord, the boy really was worried wasn't he? The secret service recognized Alfred immediately, welcoming him home with happy smiles, which Alfred returned despite his nerves. They were directed into the oval office and left to introduce themselves. The president look up from his current business, giving them both a welcoming smile and holding up one finger as he finished his phone call and hung up.

"And what can I do for you today, gentlemen?" He asked, standing up to shake their hands.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, the representation of England; it's nice to meet you. And this, sir, is Alfred F. Jones, the representation of the United States of America." England said, gesturing towards America. Alfred fidgeted some more, and had a hard time meeting his president's eyes.

"Alfred?" The president said, walking out from behind his desk and extending a hand to his nation.

"It's nice to meet you, sir." Alfred said with a small smile.

"I should be the one saying that." The president said easily. "I've been waiting to meet you since I was elected! I know your last leader was cold to you, and he treated you badly. And I'm sorry for that. I went by the apartment you used to live in, looking for you. I hate that you were reduced to living in such awful conditions! Mr. Kirkland, I have to thank you for taking my nation in when he needed you, I really appreciate it." Arthur smile in response, and assured the man that it hadn't been a problem.

"Now, Alfred, I don't intend to treat you that badly at all. In fact, I've had a wing of the White House remodeled for you, it's a really nice apartment and I hope you like it. Alfred, I think you and I can still undo the damage our government has done. I've already rearranged my government officials to my liking, though that took a lot of work. I want to reinvent the American dream and make this a happy, prosperous country, Alfred. I feel it is the government's job to serve their people, and that's what I intend to do."

"Sir," Alfred said with a genuine grin, "I'm happy to help any way that I can!" The prospect of making his people happy again, made Alfred happy as well.

"Good. I look forward to working with you." The two clasped hands again, and wrapped their arms around each other in a one-armed hug, clearly friends already.

Later that night Alfred was settled snug in his new, and very nice, apartment, and Arthur had caught a redeye back to London, planning to ship Alfred's things to him in the morning. Both were happy with the way things had turned out, but still felt deep panging aches in their chests. Because they both knew that a long-distance relationship would be hard to swing.


	7. Final Chapter

It had been almost two months since America had returned to the white house. He paced the corridors irritably, despite the fact that it was almost three in the morning. He hadn't been sleeping well since he'd been back. Or eating well. Sure, the new president was great and things were really looking up, but nothing could compare to living with England. He missed the kisses, the cuddling, and, heaven help him, even the scones. He missed having the smell of the Brit all around him, and waking up next to him each morning, and also falling asleep next to him every night. This being apart was awful, he mused as he returned to his rooms and flopped down on his couch, falling slowly into a fitful slumber.

Little did America know that England felt the same way. Since the lad had left, Arthur had done nothing but walk around and grump. He'd actually yelled at a squirrel to get off his lawn. A squirrel. Oh, France had a hay day with that one. England found that the few massive shirts Alfred had left behind were his new favorite pajamas, and actually grumbled quite a lot when his scent had faded off of them. At last he couldn't take it anymore, and boarded a last minute flight to D.C. His feet tapped impatiently against the cabin floor as he watched miles of sea pass below him. Finally, finally, finally, the plane landed. England couldn't get out of the airport fast enough.

He barely held himself back from speeding through the streets. It took some convincing to get the guards at the gate to let him through, but eventually he made them realize just who he was, and they let him past with their sincerest apologies. He had the same problem at the door. Well, then again, this was the White House. As he was arguing with security, the president happened by on his way back to bed.

"Oh..hello Arthur." The man said, looking surprised, and a little bit amused at the brit's sudden appearance. "Are you here to see Alfred?" Arthur nodded. "That hallway, last door on the right, he hides a key on top of the door frame because he always forgets his." Arthur nodded, as the security men let him go, realizing he was welcome here, and took off down the hallway. He found the door, and the extra key, and let himself in.

The apartment was large and well furnished, decked out in red, white and blue. Arthur smiled happily, seeing that the American was living well here. As he attempted to shut the door quietly behind him, suddenly realizing how late it really was, his eyes found America, flopped on his couch and whimpering in his sleep. The door clicked noisily shut and Arthur glared at it as he heard rustling from the couch. Blue eyes blinked tiredly at him, before recognition dawned in them. Arthur's heart did somersaults as the boy's face lit up in an immediate grin at the sight of him.

"Arthur?" America asked, getting to his feet.

"Hello, love. Sorry to wake you but..."

"ARTHUR!" England was cut off by America's overjoyed cry. The taller man bounded across the room, enveloping the Englishman in a tight hug, nuzzling his head into the sandy blond locks of hair. "ArthurArthurArthurArthur." He chanted, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

"I guess you missed me?" Asked a bemused England, as he twisted the fabric of a soft blue sweatshirt between his fingers, holding on to Alfred for dear life. Alfred moved back to look at England's face, where a soft smile had formed. He almost melted into a puddle of very happy American right then and there. Arthur took his chance, winding one hand into Alfred's hair and standing up on his toes, pressing his lips desperately to America's. Alfred lowered his head immediately, making the kiss easier for the smaller man. They pressed hot, messy kiss after hot, messy kiss on each other's lips, parting as little as necessary.

"You...hah...have no idea *kiss* how much *kiss* I missed *kiss kiss kiss* you." America gasped between kisses. Arthur chuckled.

"I'm getting...the picture...Alfred." England said, moaning softly as tender kisses were trailed down his neck. Rather suddenly, he gave a little jump, wound his legs around Alfred's middle and pressed their lips together once more. Alfred's eyes widened at first, startled by the unexpected move, then drifted blissfully shut as he kissed back, tightening his grip on his lover, pressing him into the nearest wall. Arthur groaned as one of Alfred's hands moved to grope his ass, a little irritated at his pants by now. He let himself drop off of Alfred, shedding his pants and underwear without a thought, hands moving to work at what America had on, letting the other man's pajama pants and boxers pool around his ankles.

America felt England shake a little beneath him as one hand moved to prepare the brit, the other working on the buttons of his shirt as he kissed up and down England's chest. England's own hands threw America's shirt aside, then buried themselves in soft locks of hair once more. America purred in appreciation as England allowed himself to be picked up and pressed against the wall again, grinding against the other man. Arthur whined impatiently, and Alfred shifted his hold on him, hooking his arms beneath Arthur's knees, gripping his hips as he lined himself up with his lover, burying himself within him in one quick thrust. England moaned loudly, one hand moving to Alfred's shoulder for support as he adjusted to the intrusion.

"Move." Arthur demanded. Alfred was more than happy to do as he was told. He thrust hard and fast into his British lover, searching for his prostate. When he found it he was rewarded with a loud moan, and the brit digging his fingernails into his shoulder as he was pounded into the wall. Moans and shoats bounced off the walls as Alfred kept moving faster, harder and deeper as England cried out for more, always more. Finally they reached their limit, England coming first, covering their chests in sticky spend, his head burrowing into Alfred's shoulder. Alfred followed quickly after, making Arthur shudder with pleasure as he was filled with Alfred's hot released.

When he could, Alfred moved them to the bed, cuddling Arthur as close as he could without crushing him.

"I really missed you, Arthur." America said into England's hair.

"I missed you two, you bloody American." England replied. "And I don't care if you move back in with me, or if I move in with you, or if we switch between, but I am _not_ going to put up with being separated from you again. You hear me?" America nodded in agreement. It didn't matter where they went, he didn't care. England could choose, or their bosses could duke it out. But wherever they went, it would be together.

**Cheesy ending is cheesy…oh, well, cheese is good!**


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